


It's All Greek to Me

by Kirito_Potter



Series: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics [2]
Category: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Beta/Omega, Food Sex, M/M, Masturbation, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Self-Lubrication, Sex Toys, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-13
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2021-02-01 06:43:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21423154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kirito_Potter/pseuds/Kirito_Potter
Summary: Henry doesn't necessarily look like the "typical" Omega. Omegas on television have soft jawlines, plush and rosy cheeks. Their hips are subtly wider than average, and their shoulders narrower. They have long, thin legs, but maintain a petite stature all the same. Henry is nothing like that-- quite the opposite, really. But it doesn't make him look like an Alpha. Despite all his hard edges, something about him is still inherently Omegan.Just like, no matter how hard he tries to look Alphan and brazen and powerful, Alex only ever looks like a Beta. Because that's all he is.
Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor
Series: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1642486
Comments: 5
Kudos: 100





	It's All Greek to Me

**Author's Note:**

> AO3 is being dumb and showing this as having one chapter but I'm hoping to have like 6 chapters total so yeah!

Alex is exhausted. Unfortunately, that doesn't seem to translate into sleep tonight. He keeps tossing and turning, hoping to get comfortable, but something sticks in the back of his brain, making it impossible for his eyelids to grow heavy.

Maybe it has something to do with being in a foreign bed. (A foreign _ country _.) It was bad enough being glued to Henry's side all day, but now he's forced to sleep in this mansion of a house. Even mansion isn't a big enough word.

He's not homesick, per say, just… out of sorts. Like jet lag, but for location instead of time. He's had to travel plenty as the First Son, and been shaken up by the plane ride as a result, but it's never been this bad before.

After what feels like years, Alex gives up. He shoves the layers and layers of sheets off him, lifts his head from the dozens of fluffy pillows, and stands. He fumbles for his glasses on the bedside table and nearly pokes an eye out trying to put them on. The hardwood floor is cold, freezing, icy on his bare feet, so he stumbles through the room in the dark looking for his suitcase. He puts on a pair of R2-D2 socks and tugs open the door to his temporary bedroom.

Alex runs his hands through his hair as he shuffles down the hallway, trying to fix his usual bedhead. He's not exactly sure where he's going, but he thinks he can remember the general direction of the kitchen. He's not too worried about finding it-- worst case scenario, he finally passes out while lost in this ornate maze, and a maid or butler will find him slumped against a priceless painting in the morning.

Every door looks the same, and he's not sure if he's going in circles. Maybe he could have used Google Maps if he'd brought his phone. This place is probably bigger than most of the towns in this damn country, so it's really not that ridiculous an idea. Not to his sleep-addled brain, at least.

He's not sure how he finds it, but Alex finally pads across the threshold to the kitchen he was shown during his little tour that morning. He grabs for the handle of the freezer, misses a few times, then manages to get a grip on it, pulling hard. A smile creeps its way onto his face despite how tired every muscle is, and he reaches for the variety box of Helados. Normally he'd go for mango, but the twinge in his brain makes him pull out a strawberry-flavored bar. He stuffs the box back in its place (approximately) and tears open the plastic, keeping it wrapped around the popsicle stick so he won't get his hands dirty.

Hopping up onto the island in the middle of the kitchen, Alex slides the ice cream into his mouth. His legs swing almost childishly, feet brushing the floor occasionally. He lets himself close his eyes, savoring the sweet flavor. It's cold but not frozen through; he doesn't have to bite down on it, just letting it slowly melt on his tongue.

The sound of soft footsteps jerks him out of his bliss, and he pops the ice cream out of his mouth, turning to look.

His Royal Highness Prince Henry stands in the doorway, rubbing at one of his cornflower blue eyes with the back of his hand.

Henry doesn't necessarily look like the "typical" Omega. Omegas on television have soft jawlines, plush and rosy cheeks. Their hips are subtly wider than average, and their shoulders narrower. They have long, thin legs, but maintain a petite stature all the same. Henry is nothing like that-- quite the opposite, really. But it doesn't make him look like an Alpha. Despite all his hard edges, something about him is still inherently Omegan.

Just like, no matter how hard he tries to look Alphan and brazen and powerful, Alex only ever looks like a Beta. Because that's all he is.

Alex realizes he's staring and makes an undignified squeaking sound.

Henry drops his hand from his face and raises an eyebrow, like moving one pulls an invisible rope on the other.

"What a coincidence," Alex huffs, frowning. He can't even get a midnight snack without it being sullied by Henry's presence. "Did I wake you?" It would be just his luck.

Henry shrugs and takes a step into the kitchen. "Not really."

His pajamas are surprisingly casual. Alex was expecting embroidered silk robes or something, since Henry loves acting so high and mighty, but it's just a long-sleeved shirt and pants, both decorated with tiny birds and woodland creatures. They look like cotton. The shirt droops off one of his pale shoulders.

"I didn't know you had glasses," Henry muses.

Alex's mood sours further, as does the taste of the ice cream lingering in his mouth. He feels his face go warm. (It's all the hatred, he supposes.) "I don't wear them in public."

He nods, tugging up the collar of his shirt. "What are you doing?"

Alex gestures vaguely with the bar in his hand. "Eating… ice cream."

"You won't be able to sleep," Henry points out.

"Couldn't sleep anyway," Alex sighs. "Might as well do something fun while I'm up."

Henry walks closer, squinting at the wrapper. "I've never seen that brand."

"It's Mexican," Alex mumbles. He holds it out to Henry without knowing why he's doing it. "Want some?"

Henry leans forward, gently placing his hand on Alex's wrist to maneuver the bar, and pulls it into his mouth. He closes his eyes the same way Alex did and works his mouth around it for a second. He slurps a bit, Adam's apple bobbing, and pulls back. Alex stares at the imprint his lips left in the bar. When he looks up, Henry is licking the pink cream off his lips. He hasn't let go of Alex's arm.

Alex stammers for a moment, then finally manages to ask, "Is it good?"

Henry nods slowly, blonde eyebrows furrowing. His hand slips off of Alex's, but something about his expression is strange. He's watching the ice cream intently, like it'll tell him the meaning of life. Then--

"Oh, shit."

Henry is a blur of motion, rocketing around the kitchen. He throws cupboards and drawers open frantically, eyes searching. He's always been pale, but now he's grey, all the color leaving his face in his panic.

"Henry?" Alex asks, eyes wide. "What--"

Henry gasps, grabbing something from a drawer. He pulls off the cap and little blue circles spill out onto his hand. He places two on his tongue with a shaking hand and swallows them dry. The pill bottle goes back in the drawer.

Henry stands there for a moment, chest heaving. Then, as calmly as before, he goes about the kitchen, gently closing all the doors he opened. His face is blank again, the same mask of indifference he always wears in photographs. When the kitchen is in order, he turns to Alex, expression schooled.

"I think I'm going to head back to my room now," he announces. "Thank you for…" his voice wavers. "The ice cream."

Alex watches, gaping, as Henry struts his way across the room and out the door.

His eyes stay trained on the doorway long after Henry is gone, until he feels a drop of half-melted ice cream fall onto his pajamas. He swipes his thumb through it and pops the digit in his mouth, sucking thoughtfully. It tastes like strawberries. And something else.

***

Alex wakes in the guest room, against all odds. He can vaguely remember his dream (and his morning wood gives him a clearer picture), but he's not quite sure of the details.

He takes a quick shower, willing his hard-on away, and mentally goes through his prepared answers for the next round of interviews as he stands under the water. Just one more day, and he can go home.

Still. Whatever happened last night won't stop bothering him. Henry was strange at best. Alex can't put his finger on what those pills were for. Maybe Henry's lactose intolerant? That seems like something that would have been listed in his Wikipedia article.

He towels off his hair and gets dressed. He and Henry-- well, really Zahra and Shaan-- have decided that both of them will be wearing navy blue. Alex brought a relatively new three-piece suit, and Henry is scheduled to wear a striped pantsuit and heels, an outfit he debuted at the BAFTA awards last year. It's a bit cheesy, matching outfits and all, but Alex's whining did nothing to change Zahra's mind.

Alex slicks his hair back, examining his reflection in the fogged-up bathroom mirror. When he's satisfied (as much as he can be) he steps out of his room and makes his way down to the parlor. Zahra is waiting for him beside Shaan, and he gets the feeling she'd be crossing her arms if her hands weren't busy with planners and checklists.

"How do I look?" Alex asks, already knowing he's a heartthrob. He spins on his heel to show off his outfit. Despite everything else, he knows he looks good in this suit, so he's going to flaunt it.

"Lovely," Zahra says without looking up. "Fix your hair."

"I did," he grumbles.

"Fix it again."

Alex sweeps a hand through his curls half-heartedly. "Okay. Ready when you are."

"Once Henry is out, we can go," Zahra agrees.

Alex sighs and stuffs his hands in the pockets of his jacket, pulling it open further and revealing his white shirt. He somehow manages to bounce his leg even as he stands, and his eyes flit around the room as if it'll make Henry appear in some dark corner or behind a velvet curtain.

Not only does Alex fail to summon the prince inside the room, but the door to the parlor stays closed. Alex checks his watch, thinking that surely it hasn't been as long as it feels, but already a good five minutes have passed, and there's no trace of Henry.

"Should I go check on him?" Alex asks carefully.

Shaan glances over. "He wasn't feeling well. He shouldn't be too much longer, though."

Nodding, Alex flops down onto a couch that probably costs more than his whole wardrobe and closes his eyes. "Just wake me up when he's ready."

He doesn't fall asleep, though, too jittery to do anything but stare at the backs of his eyelids until he gets frustrated and opens his eyes again, shifting on the couch. He kicks his black Oxfords onto the ancient coffee table (Can it be called a coffee table? Aren't British people practically allergic to coffee?) and sighs as loudly and dramatically as possible. "We're already late," he moans, lifting a hand to his forehead as if he's going to faint. "We may as well not go at this point! How mortifying."

"Hush," Zahra snaps. "Complaining isn't going to get his makeup on faster."

"Then I'll go get him!" Alex suggests again, standing from the couch.

"No!" Shaan yelps, throwing his hands up in front of Alex to block him from reaching the door.

Alex frowns. "What, am I not allowed in his 'bedchambers' or something?" He huffs, making air quotes.

"Yes, actually," Shaan says in clipped tones.

Alex blinks. "Oh."

"Just--" Shaan falters, hands dropping to his sides. "I'll go help him. You stay here."

Alex nods, lips pursed. "Okay."

Shaan throws Zahra one of those looks that could mean a hundred different things and slips out of the parlor. Alex listens to the rapid clicking of his shoes until they fade into the distance.

Alex sits on the edge of the coffee table, still a little thrown off guard. Everyone is treating him strangely all of a sudden. Has he done something wrong? Besides the whole knocking over the cake thing, of course.

"Do… you think he's avoiding me?" Alex asks, staring at the crown molding in an attempt to look nonchalant.

"What?" Zahra asks, dark eyebrows furrowed.

"We saw each other last night… and he ran out. Well, he walked out, but it was clearly because he was upset. And now he won't come out of his room. I just-- maybe it's my fault."

There's a pause, and Zahra sighs. "I don't know, Alex. Maybe."

He doesn't respond, just shifts his gaze to the design on the floor. He studies the golden loops like they'll make the tightness in his throat go away.

When forty minutes have passed since he first entered the parlor, Alex is laying on the ground, watching the clouds painted on the ceiling. Zahra convinced him to stay on his feet at first, but he's the kind of person who's impossible to stop for long.

By the fifty minute mark, Alex is loudly belting _ Hamilton _ songs to spite the palace.

Fifty eight minutes in, finally, the doors open.

Alex hops down from his new perch on the decorative end table, watching with wide eyes.

Every piece of clothing fits Henry like a glove, personally tailored to make him look like a supermodel. His jacket hugs his waist, and the hem emphasizes the slight flare of his hips. His pants are tight, and when he turns to Zahra the profile of his ass makes Alex suck in a breath. The stripes down the fabric make him look slimmer without detracting from his toned muscles. He's wearing a small silver brooch in his hair, the Greek letter for Omega. His heels look sharp enough to stab someone's eye out. (Several articles have criticized him on his habit of wearing high heels, since he's already so tall-- some misogynistic shit about how Omegas should be dainty-- but Alex sort of loves the idea of a tall Omega. It's something he'd never admit, but seeing Omegas in heels makes him want to scream "Step on me!") His winged eyeliner draws Alex in, bringing attention to how blue his eyes look.

It takes Alex a moment to realize that Henry isn't wearing blush. His face is actually flushed, and his chest rises and falls subtly enough that it's hard to tell he's panting.

"Did you run here?" Alex asks, raising an eyebrow. "You look exhausted."

Henry goes even redder. "Uh-- sorry. I didn't mean to keep you all waiting." It's not really an answer, but Alex brushes it off. "I think we should head out now, before I ruin this day even more."

"It's not your fault," Shaan smiles, patting Henry's shoulder. (Wasn't Shaan wearing a tie earlier?) "But we should definitely go."

"Agreed," Zahra groans. "I'll be surprised if we're even let on the set at this point."

Henry starts to click his way out of the parlor with Shaan in tow. Alex jogs to catch up and offers, "You know? You may be a douche, but you're a douche who looks good in heels."

Henry falters, blush spreading down his neck and past his collar. Just as quickly, he throws Alex a disapproving look and storms out, leaving him to hold the door for Zahra.

"You're an idiot," she huffs, and he follows her dutifully out of the palace.

***

Thankfully, the talk show host does let them onto the set, and Henry and Alex are ushered backstage by frantic technicians who look ready to pass out. Everyone is somehow screaming while also being quiet enough that the live audience won't hear them asking why they're so late. Alex only looks to Henry in response. Henry shrugs.

"And now!" The talk show host's voice booms, and Alex swallows, checking his collar again before peeking past the curtain to watch the set. "These two need no introduction!" He leans forward in his seat, looking smug. "But that won't stop me." Raucous laughter fills the room. "Today, of course, we have a pair of very special guests who have been taking the world by storm! Both sons of world leaders, these blokes were thought to have a fierce rivalry, but they're here today to tell us their side of the story! Would you all please lend them a hand? It's Prince Henry and Alex Claremont-Diaz!"

Alex strides onto the stage in a practiced way. He winks at the audience. He thinks he sees a Beta girl in the front swoon. Settling into the couch across from the host, Alex smiles placidly. He feels the couch dip slightly as Henry sits next to him, one leg crossing over the other. His hands move to sit on top of his knee in an effortless way.

This close to him, Alex notices something new. It was there before, but he hadn't really grasped it other than letting it sit in the back of his mind: Henry is wearing perfume. He smells fruity and sweet, almost cloyingly so.

"Hello, lads!" the host says, bringing Alex's gaze back to him.

"Hi, James," Alex chuckles.

"Great to be here," Henry adds.

"You two have caused quite a stir!" He grins. "Especially now that the truth has come out-- I had no idea you were such close friends!"

Even though Alex has practiced his response dozens of times, it sounds natural and off the cuff. "Yeah, we kept it on the down low for a while. All the publicity stuff was a lot to handle as kids, you know? It was enough for us to be friends out of the public eye."

"Everyone has their secrets," Henry notes, a hint of a mischievous smile on his face.

Alex tries to ignore how sweaty Henry already is. They're under hot studio lights, and he doesn't want to embarrass him. Still, it's sort of worrying how hard he's started panting. His smile is melting off his face, and he tugs subtly at the collar of his striped pantsuit.

"Well, how much of this 'secret' can you tell us, then?" James asks, raising a playful eyebrow.

Henry swallows hard, posture stiff. "Ah… well, we first met at the Rio Olympics. We... uh--"

Alex jumps in with Henry's line, smiling winningly as if nothing is wrong. "Yeah, it was so fun. I think I spent more time talking to-- to Henry than I did watching the events."

Henry nods frantically. "And we've been meeting up pretty much since then. Little chances to see each other." He licks his lips nervously.

The smell of perfume is clogging Alex's nose. "Most of the time, we just talk online though." So sweet. "Texts, emails, that sort of thing." He can hardly think beyond the cloud of sugary fruit, just spewing out memorized lines without trying to remember what they mean. "FaceTime has been a lifesaver. Of course, it's not easy to arrange calls from different time zones. But we make it work."

Henry nods beside him, smiling brightly as if he's not making Alex want to gag on his perfume.

His perfume.

Sugar. So much sugar, and-- is that mango? Maybe mixed with strawberry? And something else. Something that can't possibly be bottled. Something that strikes a target in Alex's stomach, makes his throat go tight. Something so distinctly… Henry.

It's not synthesized or sold. It's all Henry. His natural scent is growing, filling Alex to the brim, wrapping around him and clinging tight. Omegan.

But why? Why does he smell so strong? Why now, why here?

Understanding hits like a sucker punch, knocking the air out of Alex all at once.

Henry is in heat. If Henry weren't in heat, his smell wouldn't try to drag Alex closer the way it is-- but if he weren't on suppressants he wouldn't be here. He _ must _ be using suppressants, otherwise he wouldn't be nearly as composed as he is, but the façade is fading away bit by bit, and his scent is the first thing to be let loose. He's sedating his own instincts, pushing the heat down for the sake of this interview.

Henry is in heat. Henry is in heat right now, less than a foot away, smelling like a fucking fruit salad on steroids.

Alex feels the moment his face is set ablaze.

"Alex?"

He's jolted from his thoughts by the host's expectant tone.

"I asked you how you and Prince Henry manage the political sides of your families."

Alex chokes. Both in the figurative sense and in the sense that he feels like he's swallowed his tongue. He's gone entirely blank, eyes wide. He digs his fingers into his collar, tugging at the fabric.

Henry is in heat. In _ public. _ Right now.

"Um…" the host starts, then falls silent again.

Neither of them speaks for an excruciating moment. Even the audience is quiet.

"Well, James!" Henry yelps all at once, sweat dripping down his forehead. "It may seem a little-- uh-- impractical--"

Alex springs to life again, hands still shaking. "We have a bit of a pact. We don't talk about politics while we're hanging out-- not unless it's really necessary. The whole point is to have some moments of peace, outside of all the stress of being a prince or a first son. So we keep it separate."

From there, the interview picks up speed again without any other hitches. Alex prays it's enough to make up for them both freezing up.

When their time slot is up, the host merrily thanks them for coming onto the show and asks the audience for one last round of applause, which they happily provide. Alex all but runs offstage.

As soon as they're in the limo, Alex drags Henry as far from Shaan and Zahra as possible, sliding down the seats to the other end of the compartment.

"I need to talk to you," Alex manages.

Henry winces, looking truly apologetic. "I totally screwed up. To be fair, so did you, but I threw off the rhythm first. I'm mortified."

Alex shakes his head, brows furrowed in frustration. "You are in no state to have gone up there in the first place!"

Henry stares, gape-mouthed. "Excuse me?"

"I mean--" the blush returns, and Alex pauses to recalibrate. "You're… in heat."

Immediately, Henry's face is devoured by red as well. "Oh my God. Is it that obvious?"

Alex bites his lip. "You smell like a candle called Tropical Paradise."

That only makes Henry's blush darken. "Holy shit. Do you think everyone could tell?"

Gritting his teeth, Alex hisses, "That's not the point! The point is, we should cancel the rest of the day."

Henry seems to sober up. "We can't do that. Besides, I've been in heat in public before."

"Yeah, when it's about to end!" Alex argues. "It starts stronger than it will be on the last day. And I'm pretty sure you only just started, since you seemed fine yesterday."

Henry nods weakly. "But I'm on suppressants."

"I know, but if you knew your heat was coming we should have just scheduled it all for after!"

"But I _ didn't _know! It--" Henry falters. "It came early. I wasn't supposed to start until Wednesday."

Another puzzle piece clicks into place. "That's why you ran off last night."

Clearing his throat, Henry mumbles, "It hit me without much warning."

Alex frowns. "I can't just let you run around while you're in heat."

Henry's expression sours. "You don't have to 'let' me do anything. Just because I'm an Omega--"

"That's not what I meant!" Alex says quickly, putting his hands up in surrender. "I just… it doesn't sit right with me. If anything happened to you and I knew you were in heat… well, for one thing it'd never leave my conscience." He winces. "And for another, my mom would murder me if I fucked this up even more."

Crossing his arms, Henry stares pointedly at the leather seats. "I'll be fine."

"Are you sure?"

Slowly, he lifts his head to meet Alex's gaze. "I can handle myself. Really." He smiles. "I'm on so many suppressants, I can hardly feel my toes." His cheek are dusted with pink again. "And I mean, yeah, even if medication dampens things, I'm kind of horny. But getting turned on never killed anybody."

Alex would argue, but this probably isn't the time. (Especially when his mind is stuck on Henry's admission. _ I'm kind of horny. _He's never heard him say something so blatantly improper.) "Are you sure you'll be okay?"

"Pinky promise," Henry offers, sticking out his little finger.

Alex starts to lift his own and hesitates. "And… if you change your mind, you'll let someone know?"

Henry nods.

Alex links their pinkies, and Henry laughs. It's a bright sound, like the sun peeking through the curtains in the morning.

***

Alex didn't understand the hospital visit at first (Sure, it's great PR; cheering up little kids usually makes people look more empathetic than they really are.) but when Alex sees Henry's expression, it strikes something in him.

On one hand, his eyes are shiny for most of the visit, smile wavering. Alex feels awful for not remembering exactly why this is so important to Henry. Heat or not, he must feel like he has to do this. For his dad.

On the other hand, seeing the way the Omega kids react to Henry's praise makes him feel sort of fuzzy inside in a weird way. When Henry mentions his love of Luke Skywalker's bravery despite his upbringing (Henry knows _ Star Wars _!), the little girl he's kneeling beside grins, and it lights up the room. Alex never stopped to consider the effect it must have on these kids to have an Omega in the royal family; some sign that, no matter what people tell them, they're capable of greatness, like Henry said. The children wear blue with pride, though it's not required of them, and they all want to see Henry's glittering hair clip. It's endearing, to be completely honest-- especially when Henry smiles right back, looking like what Alex always thought a prince was supposed to be.

When they start to leave, Alex isn't sure what to say as they walk down the hallway. Henry has been decidedly un-dickish all day. Maybe it's a fluke? A product of the heat, even? Alex doesn't know how else to explain it.

"Hey, uh--"

A loud bang resounds through the hall, and before Alex can react, a guard is shoving him and Henry into a dark room, hissing "Don't move." And, of course, Alex trips on his shoes and topples onto Henry, audibly knocking the wind out of him. For the second time, they're laying atop each other, only this time Alex is the one staring down at Henry.

"Uh--" Henry starts, very loudly, and Alex claps his palm over Henry's mouth.

"Not so loud," he whispers, then carefully removes his hand.

Henry's face is flushed. Alex can only assume it's from the heat-- after all, his scent seems particularly strong right now. (Though that might also be because they're in such a tight space: the smell has nowhere to go.) Maybe his heat has hit a small bump before the bigger peaks to come.

"You good?" Alex asks.

Henry nods, the blush spreading down to his collarbones.

After a few moments, Alex shifts, trying to get more comfortable. He manages to get one leg out to the side, but his other knee ends up between Henry's. He doesn't have the room to get off of him, though, so he doesn't bother.

Henry clears his throat, bringing Alex's attention back to his face.

"Why do you hate me?"

Alex is stunned for a moment, surprised by the bluntness of the question. "You do remember Rio, don't you? I know the interview was mostly lies, but that part was true."

"What, that we met there?" Henry asks. "So what?"

Alex bristles. "So, you were a total jerk. You asked Shaan to get me away from you."

Henry goes quiet again. Then, "You heard that?"

"Obviously!"

He squeezes his eyes shut. "I… guess that was sort of rude."

"You think?"

"Will you shut up? I'm trying to apologize."

Alex barks out a laugh. "Wait, really?"

"Yeah. I was… not in the best place at the time." He opens his eyes. "I'm sorry for brushing you off."

Alex isn't sure what to say. Henry is being surprisingly mature for once. He's been kind all day, really. That thought keeps popping into his mind: how real he's been. He's not just a robot, or a statue on a pedestal. And especially with the kids, he almost seemed-- nice.

Which reminds him.

"So… _ Star Wars, _ huh?" Alex asks, grinning deviously.

Henry blushes harder, if possible. "What about it?"

"I just didn't peg you as the type, I guess," Alex says.

Henry huffs a little, squirming to try and get out from under Alex. In response, Alex grabs him by the forearms, holding him down. Henry goes perfectly still, refusing to meet Alex's gaze.

"I'm allowed to like _ Star Wars, _ you know," Henry sighs at last.

"I never said you weren't. Just, you know, with the stuff you put on that notecard--"

"Oh, bullshit."

Alex is stunned into silence.

"You know that whole card was made up, right? Shaan and the rest of my publicity team put together a list of stuff a prince should like."

"Oh." Alex frowns. "What do you like, then?"

"_ Star Wars _ ," Henry laughs. "And _ Harry Potter _."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"No old-timey classics? Jane Austen and Mark Twain don't live up to your standards after all?"

Henry hesitates. "Well, if I'm being completely honest here, I do love _ Jane Eyre _."

"And here you had me fooled."

Henry's smile doesn't reach his eyes. "What can I say? I'm a hopeless romantic."

***

When Alex steps onto the airfield, there's a strange feeling curling in his stomach. He turns to look at Henry again, and he gently pulls him into a hug, both because he's supposed to (the cameras are flashing wildly behind Henry) and because his arms seem to magnetize to Henry for a moment; he's drawn in, then it's nearly impossible to pull away. He has to take a deep breath before he steps out of the embrace, and he doesn't know why it feels so difficult. Henry's lips quirk up into a smile. It looks genuine. Alex can't think of what to say, so he says nothing.

He steps onto the plane.

The window by his seat is open. Henry waves as they take off.

It takes a few minutes of being in the air for him to notice that his suit jacket is covered in heat-scent where it was pressed to Henry's chest.

***

Henry slams and locks the door to his bedroom and toes his high heels off, feeling like millions of ants are climbing up his legs. His heat is burning in the back of his mind-- and in the front of his mind, and through the entirety of his body. He's already shaking with need, frantically trying to pull off his trousers and panties. Adrenaline dances across his skin and in the tips of his fingers.

He gets a massive case of déjà vu, remembering how eager he was this morning.

It's still fresh in his brain: waking up drenched in sweat and slick, and so hard he couldn't even think. He bolted upright in bed; his hands shook as he reached under the frame for the box he stashes there, moaning just at the sight of its contents. He grabbed the first toy his hand rested on, desperate for _ anything _to stop the pulsing ache, and didn't wait a moment once he'd pulled his pajama bottoms down to his knees before sinking onto it with a relieved gasp. The feeling of having something inside him was everything and nothing and his only tether to reality as his mind and body melted into a puddle. He rode the toy with increasingly desperate movements, feeling that usual splash of warmth in his stomach, until he knew he couldn't hold on-- except the release of all that pressure seemed impossible, even as he was just on the threshold. In his state, he couldn't do anything but sob, clenching down on the plastic again and again. He knew there was something else he was meant to be doing, outside of his room, and that he was wasting time, but he couldn't drag himself away, not when he was so close, not when his heat was only growing stronger by the moment. For what felt like an eternity, he'd bounced on the toy; his thighs grew sore, and overstimulation was too kind a word for what he was subjecting himself to, which only made him cry harder. Finally-- finally!-- Shaan threw the door open, looking like an angel in his cream-colored suit. He gently pushed Henry onto his back and pulled the toy free. At first, Henry started to wail, begging for its return, but he quickly burst into excited whimpers when he saw the replacement Shaan had pulled from the box. He pushed the toy in roughly (if Henry hadn't been in heat, it probably would have been too much for him, but being an Omega himself, Shaan must have known that it was just the sort of treatment Henry was craving at the moment) and gave it a few thrusts, making Henry groan and spread his legs further. He hardly gave Henry half a minute before he pressed the button at the base of the toy, making the knot inflate. Henry shuddered hard, and Shaan held him close. (It was only later that Henry felt remorse about covering Shaan's tie in come.) When Henry could breathe again, Shaan carefully asked him, without an ounce of anger in his voice, why Henry hadn't told him. It was only then that Henry recalled how drowsy he'd been on suppressants that night, how he'd been sure they would at the very least last him until breakfast. Clearly, it wasn't enough. Shaan helped Henry clean up with a wet towel, went to retrieve the pills from the kitchen, and got Henry dressed. Legs still wobbling, Henry let Shaan lead him to the foyer.

And here he is again, just as frenzied with heat. Depsite having taken two pills when Shaan first helped him, then one every four hours, he's trembling as he reaches for the box again. He's frankly mortified at how eager he is even with the medication, but he knows he should have expected it. Suppressants are only really effective before a heat. Once it's started, they can only dull it slightly, not the way they normally keep a heat almost completely at bay. They weren't going to do much once Henry's heat hit him, Alex's eyes glued to him while he slowly realised not only how sensual his display must have looked but also that he'd put his mouth where Alex's had been only moments ago--

Henry squirms, flushing. He's thinking too much, his body tells him. He needs to stop thinking and give himself what he's been silently wishing for all day.

He bites his lip, picking out a small Beta-green vibe (with a flare at the end not actually thick enough to be a knot), and settles on the bed, his back against the headboard. He doesn't switch the toy on just yet, just brushes it against the inside of his thigh. The touch makes him moan again.

He closes his eyes and calls the memory of last night to play on his eyelids. Alex's eyes are so dark. They're always dark, a rich brown, but now his irises are being devoured by his pupils. Henry swirls his tongue over the ice cream, making it an intentional move this time. Alex swallows, and the shape of his Adam's apple beckons.

Henry teases himself by dragging the vibrator over his rim, drawing a moan from himself.

Alex is hopping down from his perch now, eyebrows pulled down in determination. He pushes Henry's stomach against the island, and Henry goes pliant in his hold, allowing himself to be bent over the marble surface. He wiggles his arse invitingly, heart pounding.

Henry sets the toy on its lowest setting and rubs it gently over his perineum, shivering.

Alex's breath is hot on the back of his neck as he pulls down Henry's pajama bottoms, already messy with slick. He presses his hand to Henry's hip, keeping him from moving.

Henry goes so far as to run the vibrator down the length of his straining prick, blushing at the way his toes curl.

Something cold and wet slides over his twitching hole, and he yelps before falling slack against the counter again. He hears Alex laugh a little.

He can't stand teasing himself anymore. He's been weak all day, and he needs it right this second. He's ridiculously wet, has been this whole time. Fingers shaking, he brings the toy back to his rim. He bumps it up another notch, gasping sharply at the way it feels against him.

Alex slides the bar of ice cream in.

Henry pushes the vibrator inside with a sharp thrust, and his throat goes tight as he tries to moan but only manages a pitiful squeak.

The difference between Alex's warm hand on his hip and the freezing ice cream bar is disorienting, but also strangely good. It helps that Alex is dragging his tongue up Henry's neck, moaning as if he's the one being thrust into.

It doesn't take long for Henry to find his prostate. (He has a lot of practice.) The moment the vibe presses against it, Henry tenses, legs drawing up tightly and fingers grabbing more intently at the toy. Tears of pleasure prick the corners of his eyes.

Alex pulls the bar free, tossing it into a bin, and while it was so cold that Henry is glad it's gone, he's also achingly empty. Thankfully, Alex remedies the problem right away, sinking his cock into Henry's hole. They both groan. Alex's cock is so hot inside him, in stark contrast to the cold slide of what's still inside him from the ice cream. Alex doesn't waste any time before he starts slamming into Henry, growling things in his ear that make him warm all over.

Henry grinds the vibrator against his prostate harder, even finding himself snapping his hips against his palm. His cock bobs, drooling precome down its length, and he tips his head back, panting.

Alex digs his nails into Henry's hip, sucking on the juncture between his neck and shoulder, and Henry can only gasp.

He pulls the vibe out some, letting the thickest part pull at his rim, before pushing back in and pressing it to his prostate again. He whines and does it again, the toy threatening to pop free. Each push sounds wet and filthy, slick squelching around the plastic.

Alex takes a handful of his arse, squeezing hard, and his next thrust is even more forceful than before. Henry groans quietly, trying to buck his hips back into the feeling, and Alex laughs, kissing down his neck.

Thighs trembling, Henry squeezes around the toy, reveling in how full he is. The vibrations keep him shivering even when he's just holding it there. He feels like he's slowly being submerged in boiling water, the warmth quickly overtaking him. His stomach is tight, almost painful. He could explode at any moment.

Alex licks across Henry's collarbone, hands roaming up from his arse to slide across his waist before brushing over his hard nipples. Henry shudders, whining, and Alex rolls one of the buds between his fingers.

Henry reaches up with his free hand to play with his nipple, trying to imagine Alex's calloused fingers and rough palms. He groans, feeling his cock ache. He's so close.

Alex moves his hand up again, resting it on Henry's cheek. He tilts Henry's face towards himself. His lips meet Henry's.

"Alex!"

Henry feels like a firecracker, all heat and light and bloody spectacular. He can feel tears streaming down his cheeks as he rides out his orgasm.

When he manages to unfurl his fingers from their death grip on the toy, he finally turns it off, sighing. He pulls it free, and what seems like gallons of slick follows, making the sheets shiny.

Admittedly, Henry is more than a little embarrassed. He hadn't intended to imagine using the ice cream as a makeshift dildo, but his heat has a way of making everything sexual. (And it wasn't exactly a _ bad _fantasy, either.) If Alex knew the sorts of things he imagines when he listens to his heat and gives in to temptation…

He shivers, licking his lips. His cock is already starting to twitch again.


End file.
